Moments
by Golda Penwood
Summary: Sirena is not average in any way that the word could be applied... so what is she? Prologue is up, please let me know if I ought to continue. T rating is for safety and language


Alrighty, people - if you like and want me to continue, let me know! As usual, there is a cover-all disclaimer saying I own nada that you recognize**_

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Prologue 

Her mama looked happy next to the man in a suit. The rest of her family looked murderous, that is, if Sirena had been old enough to know what murderous was. Of course, her new papa's family didn't look too happy either.

Sirena was five years old, and she had a new father.

Sirena was five years old, and she wasn't really sure what a father was.

-0o0-

Sirena lay perfectly still, the only sign that she was any different from the truck above her the slight rise and fall of a flat chest. Legs, some bare and graceful beneath tattered skirt hems and others clad in equally tattered jeans, milled around the vehicle. Beside her, a slightly smaller boy gazed upwards into the jumble of gears above his head.

"Sirena?"

Silence from his cousin was something they were all used to. Another voice joined his, a deeper, commanding voice.

"So, can y'fix it or not?"

Sirena turned her head suddenly to look at her cousin before holding a finger to her lips. He nodded, knowing that he and he alone of her extended family knew about the 'talking'. And knowing it had to stay that way.

Dark eyelids flickered open. Sirena reached her hand up and brushed the undercarriage of her uncle's truck. The caress traveled across the antique frame for several moments, angonizingly slow for her young audience. He squirmed in anticipation.

Above them, the motor suddenly roared into life. The legs dissapeared with the clangs of doors closing, a few yells of congratulation escaping before gears ground themselves into drive. Sirena lay still again, here eyes closed, as the high undercarriage pulled gently away above her head. Her cousin Marko clasped her hand before wriggling away to join his family. "Thanks, 'Rina!"

Finally clambering up, the girl laughed and reached up to tousle her cousin's hair before giving him a leg up into the truck bed to join the rest of his family's brood. Unlike most girls her age, the laugh was bitter rather than carefree, the smile cold instead of lively. Her uncle's family knew not to take them at face value.

"Just had a loose spark plug Uncle Sim. Nothing serious."

Simeon shook his head. "I never did see such a young one for knowing how cars work." He suddenly looked past her, a frown creasing his face.

Looking around, she saw her mama coming from the house, a letter in her hand. The frash bruise on her cheek was worn with no attempt to hide it. The knife in her blouse was more carefully concealed, as befitted a rover woman. Sirena's smile dimmed into confusion as her mother came close enough for her to see that the other hand held her daughters duffle.

Putting the suitcase on the ground, Beti Smith slipped the letter into the mailbox and waved at her brother's family. They stopped, commotion inside the car obvious as cousins rearranged themselves to stare over the tailgate at Auntie Beti.

"Beti?"

Marko yelled from the back of the truck, "Sirena! Your daddy's bleeding!"

Everyone except Beti scuffled in the truck to see Peter Smith holding his hand on an open cut across his cheek, eyes smoldering at the dimiuative woman outside his gate.

"You take that devil child of yours far away, you hear me!" Sirena winced at both the bellow and at the naked interest in her cousin's eyes.

Beti, no longer Smith, looked unsmilingly at her nephew, the now blackening bruise swelling her eye shut. "Marko, Sirena has no Daddy."

Sirena was eleven years old, and now she had no father.

Sirena was eleven years old, and she was very glad she had no father.

-0o0-

"What is with that girl?"

Marko clasped a hand roughly on the speakers arm. Despite slighter build and much lesser height, something in Marko's eyes kept the stranger from saying anything else. After all, he wasn't paid to get in fights. He just handled the coffins. And being new at the job, he had no doubt that his boss would be more than happy to make something of a graveside brawl. Although this was certainly an odd funeral. Only the two kin, but enough flowers to plant a garden with. No notes, no mourners, just lots and lots of flowers and ribbons.

Sirena lay on her back on the grave long after the attendant had left. Her hair, so close in color to the surrounding dirt that it dissapeared among the mud it intermingled with, lay limp with the rain.

Marko stood above her, his hands in his pockets. As always, he knew what not to say. He just wasn't sure what he should say. Eyes the color of the gravestones around her opened and look upwards towards the cold sky.

"It wasn't your fault."

Not bothering to wait for his cousin's answer, Marko dropped a rose and an envelope on her chest. He slouched away from the grave, hands thrust deep into his pockets, without looking back.

Sirena wrapped her hands around the flowers stem, and noted that Marko had removed all the thorns. How cruel of him. The envelope was heavy, weighted down with something metal, and as she gripped it Sirena knew that only Marko would have dared to give it to her. But then Marko was different.

"Sure."

Nobody but herself heard the words. But that was how she liked it.

Sirena was sixteen years old, and now she had no mother.

Sirena was seventeen years old, and her world felt like it had just ended.

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So, I left this very open to be more than just a one-shot about a techno-path - what do you guys think? 


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